


The Adventures with Akaashi the Tired™

by redrioting



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Running, Yoga, konoha akinori is at risk of dying bc of akaashi and its great, lots of characters appear in this, side kuroshou, side semisuga, side toraken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 05:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10655649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrioting/pseuds/redrioting
Summary: all akaashi keiji wants to do is rest, instead, he does exactly the opposite.





	The Adventures with Akaashi the Tired™

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EclecticInkling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticInkling/gifts), [cara1317](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cara1317/gifts).



> this was my entry for the [Run Charity Zine](http://runcharityzine.tumblr.com) !! its a wonderful zine with so many talented people (+ its freaking gorgeous?? like omfg) 
> 
> this was beta read by [cara](carajay1317.tumblr.com) and edited by [Allie](http://eclecticinkling.tumblr.com)!! _thank you both so so so much for dealing with this mess asdfghj_

Akaashi Keiji is not a morning person.

 

Admittedly, he isn’t an afternoon or night person either, and he isn’t really so much a _person_ whatsoever until he’s had his daily cup of tea and calmed all murderous thoughts towards whoever or whatever woke him up. In this case, his violent thoughts are directed towards his roommate, Konoha.

 

In Keiji’s defense, his urge to kill Konoha was totally justifiable.  Waking up to the sounds of owl hoots from an air horn? It was even more justifiable when Keiji practically jumped off of his futon -- or at least, what he thought was his futon -- and realised that he was actually on the floor with his duvet over him and his pillow beneath his head.

 

Being poked in the head by the end of a broomstick didn’t help Konoha’s survival either.

 

“Rise and shine, Birdnest!” he grins, sandy hair tied up in a ponytail with a colourful mix of bobby pins sprinkled around it. “Gotta get up early and all that crap.”

 

Keiji bats away the broom and hisses when Konoha pokes again, this time at tufts of his hair with the broom. Opening his eyes just enough to see, he finds his roommate standing on their yellow couch, the tip of the broom now propped under his jaw while the bristles brushed against the cushion. A lazy smirk tugs at Konoha’s lips.

 

He turns on his side and throws the duvet over his head, ignoring his roommate.  Konoha laughs and swiftly pulls the blanket off. Keiji squeaks and curls into a ball, wrapping his arms around his legs, shuddering at the cold.

 

Konoha laughs again, and he scowls and covers his face with one hand. A resounding whine leaves him when his other hand can’t quite reach the edge of his blanket trailing on the ground. Konoha shakes his head at his kouhai’s antics and huffs at the mewling noises their cats make as they poke and prod at Keiji’s back.

 

“C’mon, Keij,” his voice mirrors the one Oikawa Tooru uses when he makes fun of others and he grimaces, “you do know what’s today, righ’?”

 

Keiji’s response is muffled by the pillow over his head, but his response is still clear enough for Konoha:

 

“One that starts with Y.”

 

Another poke, this time with the bristles of the broom, makes Keiji jump and shoot a nasty look at his roommate, messy hair spiralling like dark clouds cluttering the sky at night and his eyes piercing the veil it creates.

 

_If I wish for death hard enough, will someone hear my prayers?_

 

That’s all he thinks of in that moment, the same moment in which Konoha’s smirk stretches as he pulls out his phone, taking a quick picture of Keiji’s state before sending it to the Fukurodani group chat. _Death, please, I’m begging now._

 

“Move, lazy butt, we’re exercising,” Keiji removes the pillow from his head to quirk an eyebrow at Konoha, who smiles and wiggles his fingers in his direction after he jumps from the couch and jogs to the kitchen. “Remember our vows, we must honour ourselves and actually do something for once.”

 

With a loud and extended “ _no,”_ Keiji pulls himself off the ground and staggers towards his room, dragging his duvet and pillow with him until he flops them onto his futon can search for his phone. Once he finds it, buried in the pockets of the hoodie he wore the night before, he opens his LINE and types a message to Konoha’s boyfriend:

 

 **[08:10] smowl:** how legal is murder?

 

 **[08:15] washio-san:** not very

**[08:15] washio-san:** why?

**[08:16] smowl** : konoha-san is going to die.

**[08:16] smowl:** a cold, slow death by me.

**[08:17] washio-san:** understandable

**[08:17] washio-san** : imma guess n say he woke u up?

**[08:18] smowl:** death via akaashi keiji.

**[08:18] washio-san:** so a yes then

 

Keiji shakes his head and sends a series of knife emojis before changing into his volleyball shorts and shucking on the same hoodie, which has a ridiculous amount of squiggles all over it in a distinctly Satori style, if anything.

 

When he walks out to the kitchen, he catches Konoha humming and dancing around with a pan in one hand and two eggs in the other. Spotting Keiji by the door, he starts singing loudly. A booming laugh makes Keiji jump, bumping into the corner of the counter and making him double over in pain.

 

“That… that wasn’t there before,” he wheezes, hand pressing against his side. “Damn, that's going to bruise.”

 

Konoha’s laughter intermingles with that of Washio, who was FaceTiming his boyfriend and was the cause of Keiji’s new bruise. He flips both them off, making sure Washio can see it before he starts setting their small table.

 

“Thanks for your support,” he greets dryly.

 

From Konoha’s phone, Washio’s shoulders are still shaking with laughter as his boyfriend momentarily passes the pan of eggs to Keiji. “An eggcellent method to stop bruising.”

 

“Can’t eggsplain how it works, it just does,” Washio pipes in, and Keiji frowns at the two of them. _Dear god, not the puns, anything but the puns._

 

It _is_ a little hypocritical considering Keiji’s chat names, but he could handle owl puns; that was easy and fun. Enter the egg or cat puns… and chaos ensues.

 

He hands the pan back to Konoha.  “Wordplay and tamagoyaki, what a day -- and it’s only been fifteen minutes,” he mutters to himself tiredly, rubbing at his eyes and pouring a glass of water for himself.

 

Mostly, he tunes out Washio and Konoha’s chatter, occasionally catching bits and pieces of it, but nothing really stands out in particular.  He picks some fruits from the fridge, and washes them before neatly chopping them into bite-sized pieces.  From time to time, he joins in on their conversation, especially if Washio asks him a question, but remains quiet for the rest of the time.

 

The three of them later find themselves in a series of pun battles, Washio siding with Keiji at times and Konoha gasping in mock horror at the betrayal. All the while, Keiji and Konoha walk around one another as they work together to make breakfast.  Once finished, they sit down at the table and wave goodbye to Washio before ending the call.

 

The two eat in silence for nearly a full minute, although it consists of Konoha side eyeing Keiji with mirth that made him suspicious.

 

“What?”

 

Konoha’s face splits into a grin. “You totally forgot what we planned, didn’t you.”

 

It isn’t even a question, and Keiji bristles at that, because he doesn’t remember what they had decided; he’s been busy with university assignments, group projects, and catching up with Satori, Tooru, and Koutarou in their group chat late at night. Or, Keiji might have forgotten whatever Konoha was implying because it has something to do with the insane idea of actually leaving the warmth of their apartment for the brutal cold of February winter.

 

Receiving no response, Konoha shakes his head and points at Keiji with his chopsticks. “You, dear kouhai, are an idiot.”

 

“Source?”

 

“You’re gonna avoid the whole thing, aren’t ya?” Konoha scoffs and Keiji just shrugs at him.

 

“I wouldn’t know since I have no idea what you’re talking about to begin with, Konoha-san.” Keiji looks down. Kumo is nudging his leg with her head.  Seeing that she’s gotten his attention, she stretches then half leaps, half climbs up, slipping comfortably into his lap. He strokes Kumo’s fur, earning a loud, pleased purr from the gray Persian. Keiji looks back at Konoha. _“_ Whatever it is, I don’t doubt that you forced me into agreeing.”

 

Keiji barely manages to hide his glee Konoha’s affronted expression. _Vengeance ploys always start out slow._

 

Konoha scoffs and fixes one of the bobby pins in his hair, glancing at the mess of black curls escaping Keiji’s ponytail. It definitely couldn’t be considered a ponytail, really, not with that sort of attempt, but Konoha excuses the fashion disaster as Keiji being tired. _Or, well, just being Keiji._

 

He leans forward and picks up a strawberry that was closer to his roommate. “Remember at the start of the semester, when we were bein’ petty and bored and agreed to give the whole exercise regime shindig a go?”

 

 _“‘We?’”_ Keiji, for the life of him, sounds exasperated -- borderline homicidal, really -- and it was barely noon. “Don’t include me in your strange plans, please.”

 

Konoha smirks. “My weird plans? You mean like, ‘ _Konoha-san we should try yoga and those Wonder Woman online workouts,’_ oh, or my favourite, _‘Konoha-san we’re going to get our shit together and dance with Sugawara-san and Semi-san, okay?’”_

 

Now that Keiji thinks about it, he may have said that. He also may have been very drunk when he said it.

 

“That smug look appears terrible paired with your face,” Keiji says, attempting to deflect the issue at hand, although Konoha simply rolls his eyes.

 

“Firstly, any look appears wonderful on my face,” Keiji clears his throat at that but it doesn’t stop Konoha, “and secondly, I resent that comment, but I’m ignoring your attempt at hurting my feelings because you just did a decent snark job and it’s not even ten! Thirdly, you had better get your carpe diem goin’ on ‘cause we’re doin’ yoga, like it or not.”

 

Keiji scowls. Ever since Konoha learned Latin aphorisms from his Western television shows and movies, plus the very much _unnecessary_ encouraging input from Satori at every possible moment, he’s been moving himself higher on Keiji’s hit list.

 

“Well, I don’t recall ever agreeing to doing such a thing, Konoha-san.”

 

The expression on Konoha’s face makes Keiji cringe. He knows his defeat is near when his roommate pulls out his phone, probably ready to show Keiji recorded video evidence.

 

“Are you _sure?”_ Konoha taunts, eyebrows wiggling as he gives him an insufferable look. Instead of answering, Keiji eats the grapes and oranges he’d prepared earlier, and growls when Konoha manages to sneak away the bowl after Kumo distracts him.

 

“Oi, I got the grapes, so be nice.”

 

“You are also the one forcing me to go outside,” Keiji shudders. “It’s _winter,_ Konoha-san, I would argue against running in our sports shorts. In the cold.”

 

“But it’s for team spirit, Akaashi-kun,” his tone sickly sweet as he blinks slowly and makes a weird string of whistles that makes Kumo jump onto the table. “You wouldn’t want to raise our child knowing you go back on promises?”

 

Keiji would not admit it, but this was slightly entertaining, even with the impending doom via exercise which Keiji had totally, absolutely, forgotten about. There was no doubt about it.

 

“Therefore, by that logic, I must fulfill my promise to Washio-san of your very slow and painful death?”

 

“My what-in-the-who-now?”

 

The glint in Keiji eyes makes both Kumo and Konoha tense, “if you have any sense of self-preservation, Konoha-san, I suggest that you _run_.”

 

With a yelp, Konoha shoves his chair back, practically leaping away from it as he runs, skidding and stumbling to his bedroom even as Keiji sits relaxed in his seat, picking up a glass of apple juice and sipping from it with a satisfied grin.

 

 

After he changes into a crop top once left behind by Tooru, he grabs a water bottle. So far, this was the only part of the day that Keiji thought was simple and peaceful. That is, until the moment is spoiled by the doorbell ringing. Seconds later, Keiji is being tackled to the ground by a very tall, excited redhead known as Tendou Satori.

 

Or “The Bane of Keiji’s Existence,” as he likes to say.

 

Before he can react, Satori is leaning close to his face, lips twisting into a half smirk, half grin that make them look maniacal before his expression softens and his eyes, that gorgeous dark red that Keiji still is fascinated by, glimmer with a number of mischievous thoughts and schemes hidden within.

 

Thoughts and schemes that might include Keiji, ones that may not end very well for said person.

 

“Ke~iji-kun!” Satori presses his face against Keij’s neck and leaves a peck there. “Ya ready?”

 

Eyebrows half raised, Keiji pushes Satori off him and onto the floor beside him instead. “For what, exactly?”

 

The smirk returns, and he whispers dramatically: “Yoga.”

 

Keiji scowls and whines, burying his face in his hands while Satori cackles at his boyfriend’s reaction. “Tendou-san, full offense, you’re an ass.”

 

Satori giggles and stands, tugging Keiji up with them and shaking his shoulders to a tune he likes to hum, one about hearts that Keiji’s never fully heard before. “So I’ve been told, but at least I’m an ass you get to keep and treat.”

 

When the two walk into the living room, Keiji sees that the yellow couch now has mismatched pieces of clothing scattered all over it and random socks on the floor. “Think of the children,” Keiji laments.

 

“Eh? What children?” Their voice gets louder, and when Konoha pokes his head out from the space by the window, a space that Keiji loves to nap around with Kumo and sometimes Satori, Keiji nods his head in Konoha’s direction. Satori snorts.

 

“Aaaaah, _that_ child.”

 

“Naturally, who else among us is below the age of five?”

 

“Correct, correct again Keiji-kun! Gotta say though, I can’t believe that you’re babysitting your roommate,” he shakes his head, and his red hair, usually spiked but today left to fall around their face, seems to puff up with the movement.

 

Keiji shrugs, “Someone has to do it.”

 

There’s a yelp from Konoha followed by meows and cusses.

 

“Strong language for a five year old, Keiji, are ya sure you’re doin’ your job right?”

 

Keiji retaliates by bumping their shoulders together and jabbing Satori in the side, earning a high pitched squeal.

 

“Hurry up, Konoha-san,” Keiji says, mock impatience leaking into his tone. “You’re making us late for our yoga session with Tendou-san.”

 

“Why, you little–!”

 

The yoga session, to say the least, involves the only person not wanting to be there being the only one doing actual exercise. Konoha ends up Skyping with Sugawara and then Washio while in the downward dog position, Keiji struggles with stretching, only to have Satori offer to help and slouches onto Keiji’s so he can “help touch your toes, you have’ta be sure you’re ready for this.”

 

“I don’t want to be ready, spiritually, physically or mentally,” Keiji grouches under his breath, “I want to be _asleep_ like a normal person on a Saturday.”

 

Satori pushes off Keiji and moves on to extend his arms and legs, touching their right toe with his left hand and vice versa while they chatter about a manga he recently picked up; something to do with murders and superpowers that Satori gushes about.

 

All the while, Satori never stops moving and manages to goad Keiji into yoga positions without him realising it until the burn of newly stretched muscles alerts him to it. He sits on the ground, one leg stretched in front of him while the other is bent, pressing into his thigh, and leans forward, forehead touching his knee while his hands grasp his foot.

 

Keiji turns his head to the side and his soft expression turns into one of vivid shock and confusion at seeing Satori balancing only on their hands, one leg pressed against his shoulder as his ankle rests against his neck, while the other leg is hooked around one elbow.

 

Satori perks up at Keiji’s startled expression; he untangles himself from his pretzel formation but stay balanced, now on his forearms instead of his hands alone, back arching and legs above his head, toes pointed and touching his nose. Satori sticks out their tongue for extra measure and Keiji swears at him.

 

“C’mon Keiji-kun, you can fight the big bad yoga moves,” Satori starts and Keiji glowers, “Do the splits or something to show off those thighs.”

 

He sends his boyfriend a pointed look and Satori does his best to shrug in his position. “What? It’s jus’ a proposition; plus your thighs are the cutest.”

 

“Don’t let Oikawa-san hear that,” Keiji’s smiling now, moving into an upward bow pose and taking several deep breaths in time with the small counter Konoha had placed in front of them. He sighs and closes his eyes, relishing in the soft breeze that passes through from their open window and the sweet smell of cinnamon candles.

 

Feeling something brush against his calf, Keiji cracks an eye open to find Satori poking him, clearing their throat; Satori glances at his partner and smiles innocently.

 

“Keiji-kun, a question for ya!”

 

He hums in acknowledgement.

 

“What would happen if, hypothetically, Kumo crashes into you?”

 

“I do believe it’s self-explanatory, but I might fall,” he answers warily, eyeing Satori. “And it's likely to end with someone receiving a jab.”

 

Satori laughs.

 

“Don’t doubt my jabbing skills, Sugawara-san taught me how to perfect it.”

 

Satori hums and spreads his legs into a split above his head, he tap his chin in thought before his hand goes down and his smile fills with mischief.

 

Keiji should have known, honestly he should’ve, he blames it on waking up early and whatever torture poses Satori twisted him into as to why he didn’t block Satori’s action. Satori arches their back further so that his toes come into contact with Keiji’s side. The poke is harder this time and Keiji regains his balance until Satori double jabs him. Keiji retaliates by turning around so his raised leg would poke Satori, refusing to back down from his yoga pose.

 

Their little battle ends too soon, with Kumo jumping onto Satori and then nose-diving onto Keiji, making them both jump in surprise and crumple into a pile of limbs on the ground with a series of whines and groans.

 

Konoha, instead of helping, records the entire ordeal for later use.

 

Satori picks out Keiji’s dance clothes as the latter flops down onto the couch and tries to take a quick nap, an attempt that fails when Satori decides to sit on his back. Keiji flails around for a few seconds, gasping for breath until Satori sags onto him, body sprawled on top of Keiji instead of just on his back.

 

It’s an improvement, though not by much.

 

“You’ve got bruises,” he murmurs against Keiji’s ears, fingers brushing against the exposed part of his stomach thanks to the crop top Satori picked. “Ya doin’ good?”

 

He nods and frowns into the cushion beneath him while Satori moves off to sit on the floor instead.

 

“You’re sure dancing with Semisemi and that little shit is fine?”

 

Keiji hums, “Honestly, I don’t think Sugawara-san would find that term all too insulting.”

 

Satori covers his partner’s mouth, hissing loudly as they lean in, raising an eyebrow dramatically. “You know what they say… Say the devil’s name and he shall appear.”

 

He giggles at Satori’s antics and swats at his shoulder. “Sugawara-san is an angel.”

 

“Of death, pestilence, famine and war?”

 

“Those are the horsemen of the apocalypse, Tendou-san.”

 

“Close ‘nough.”

 

With a scoff, Keiji pushes Tendou off, and they finish fixing the living room. Then, they walk out of the apartment with Konoha promising to stop by the dance studio Semi and Suga worked and practised at regularly. Despite their previous comments, Satori wasn’t deterred by the impending doom of dealing with Sugawara Koushi, and starts another discussion on all the Robins that have come and gone, before launching into an explanation of a Shounen manga their own roommate was planning on creating.

 

When they arrive, Semi is stretching and Suga greets them with a brilliant grin at Keiji and then a cockier one at Satori.

 

“We’re gonna pair you both up, so Akaashi-kun you’re with Eita, and Sacchan’s with me.”

 

The smile on his face made Keiji send his boyfriend a look, watching Satori’s expression crumple at Suga’s new nickname for him.

 

“You’ve talked to Tooru then, I see,” he states and Suga nods knowingly.

 

“He misses you very, very much, _Sacchan_.”

 

Semi and Keiji share a look.

 

“This was a mistake,” Tendou moans.

 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

It’s a miracle really, that Keiji lasts this long in the day before lunch. He’s pulled along by Washio, who took to leading his kouhai by the wrist as he looks around dazed and tired, stomach refusing to stop its whale mating calls even for a minute.

 

All Keiji knows is that he’s finally sitting in the corner of booth at one of his favourite ramen restaurant, order ready while he picks up his laptop and turns it on, opening a document to finish his psychology essay. Konoha groans at that and pushes the laptop screen down only to have Keiji grip his wrist and send him a glare.

 

“No, bad Akinori,” he says, eyes narrowing at Konoha’s childish expression. “How are you dating Washio-san?”

 

“Tatsuki loves and adores me and treats me with respect, unlike _some_ people.”

 

Keiji watches him with a raised eyebrow. “Wouldn’t treating you with respect first require you have some in the first place?”

 

“Hey, be nice to the person getting you lunch.”

 

Keiji shrugs and moves his laptop closer to himself.

 

“And dessert.”

 

Keiji shrugs again and points at Washio, who is talking on the phone with someone. “Washio-san’s the one who’ll be getting us mochi, and we both know it.”

 

Konoha looks like he’s about to argue, before he sighs and nods in defeat, making Keiji smirk victoriously.  Their exchange consists of snarky comments, questions and explanations to the essay Keiji works on until Washio comes back with all their food. Fifteen minutes later, Satori joins them, two textbooks with him that he flips through idly until he flops down and nestles his chin on Keiji’s shoulder.

 

When they go out for mochi, Satori tries to hide their own mochi from Keiji, who keeps managing to steal pieces from it and stuffing theminto his mouth before anyone could complain. Satori isn’t the only victim; Washio has given up on stopping him and Konoha is just being restrained by Washio.

 

In the end, Keiji loses all the battles that day, finding himself back in his gym shorts, a graphic tee and a sports jacket hastily thrown over. He does manage to sneak the scarf off of Satori and wrap it around his own neck, welcoming the warmth it brings while shuddering at how cold his legs are.

 

He makes it very clear how much he does not want to be here. Konoha and Satori can support that with evidence including video recordings, scratches and bruised egos.

 

Still, they had found it easier than they thought to convince Keiji to go to the outdoor running track, each sliding an arm through his and pulling him along with them until their shoes stopped meeting pavement and instead treaded on the brick red, rubberised artificial surface of the track. (The only reason he knows that is because Satori would not stop talking about the differences and benefits of the synthetic material for the health of runners.)

 

Konoha takes a deep breath in, hands on his hips; “Er, we’re here. We’re gonna run and we’re gonna fail at it, but we’ll fail with pride.”

 

Satori scoffs and brushes imaginary dust off his shoulder. “Not all of us are you, Akinori-kun, some of us actually have skill and talent.”

 

The look he receives is nothing short of murderous and Keiji feels proud that Konoha pulls that off.

 

They start to argue and Keiji ignores them, looking around and noticing a few familiar figures, or really, the very familiar monstrosity of hair known as Kuroo Tetsurou. He fixes the strap of his duffle bag higher on his shoulder and walks to the changing rooms, albeit glumly, but he was doing what he had promised.

 

_Asshat Konoha-san, holding everything against me._

 

He comes out of the changing rooms the same time Satori and Konoha decide to finally enter it and waves them a goodbye, earphones plugged into his phone as he scrolls through his music, finding a number of playlists created by each of his boyfriends; three by Satori, six by Tooru and over ten by Koutarou.

 

He smiles at his phone, reading all the puns in the playlists’ names.

 

Back at the start of the running track, Keiji checks the laces of his trainers and sits on the ground, close to where Daishou and Kuroo chose to stay and watch while whispering insults to one another in between their discussions on topics for their own assignments. Books, papers and folders are stacked around them in messy piles, balanced on their laps or the arms of their chairs. The only break in the mess is their own laptops.

 

Kuroo’s leg is propped up on his backpack, ankle taped and wrapped with bandages to hold his healing ankle in place. It wasn’t surprising to anyone how much Kuroo moves, Daishou being least surprised and seething every time Kuroo winces.

 

“No you dumbass that’s not – _what are you doing?_ ”

 

That has been the basis of their conversation for the past ten minutes Keiji has been there.

 

“You piece of crap, that wouldn’t make the case better if the victim has–“

 

“It is a _hypothetical_ victim in a _hypothetical_ scenario, unlike your big ass presence in ruining my day,” Kuroo seethes, eyes narrowing as he reads Daishou’s essay, a previous argument of theirs rising between them.

 

“Kuroo-san,” Keiji interrupts, pointing at the figures running on the track, their recognisable figures as Yamamoto and… Kozume?

 

Kuroo pauses and pushes Daishou’s face away with his hand to peer at Keiji. “Yes?”

 

“Is Kozume-san being threatened?” Kuroo follows his line of sight and bursts into peals of laughter.

 

Yamamoto is just passing the group sitting when he pauses and waits for Kozume to catch up, foot tapping to the rhythm of the song he’s listening. He waves at them. When Kozume is close enough to him, cheeks flushed and hair tied back in a braid (courtesy of Yamamoto; Keiji knows the talents of Taketora), the black of his roots in stark contrast to the blonde tips.

 

“Kozume-san is running,” Keiji states and Daishou snorts.

 

“Clearly, what else would they be doing at a track?”

 

“Hiding behind a tall person and pretending they don’t exist in order to play on their phone?”

 

Kuroo’s laughter only increases. “Kenma wouldn’t do that, they’d just sit here and play in front of our faces.”

 

“Ah, I apologise for the incorrect assumption then, Kuroo-san,” says Keiji; Kuroo just waves in response, raising his injured leg and placing it on Daishou’s lap.

 

“Nah, not going to lie, I’d think the same thing, but Kenma’s surprising.” Kuroo’s grinning now, although his eyebrows knit together when Daishou shifts and leans to show him a paragraph on a research paper. “What the hel– I wrote the exact same thing and she docked points off!”

 

Daishou sticks his tongue out happily. “Even Kirishima-sensei can tell you’re a dick.”

 

“Why you snak– ” Keiji throws a pebble at Kuroo’s head to get his attention.

 

“ _What?”_

 

“Is Kozume-san under life threatening conditions?” Kuroo’s attention snaps to him immediately.

 

“Wha– no! Kenma’s fine, holy crap, Kenma is _fine_ ,” Kuroo answers quickly. “they’re jus’… er…”

 

“Yamamoto-kun’s taken their PSP away from them with a deal,” Daishou fills in Kuroo’s silence. “Every lap equals half an apple pie and 15 minutes on his game.”

 

“And they’re on their, I believe, second lap?”

 

“Fifth,” the two correct in unison, and Keiji gives them an incredulous look. “We’re just as surprised.”

 

Keiji nearly comment before a shadow covers him and someone slaps their hands down on his shoulders, making him start and push backwards into whoever was behind him.

 

“Akaashi!” Keiji yelps when the back of his head bumps with the knees of Washio, who looks down at him with a radiating smile. “Let’s go running!”

 

He doesn’t get much choice in the matter when Washio tugs him up to his feet and slaps him on the back, making Keiji wheeze at the impact and stumble behind him with a string of threats bubbling inside his head.

 

 _Here lies Konoha Akinori, the biggest thorn in Akaashi Keiji’s side. He lived a not-so-peaceful life and deserved it for making Akaashi Keiji have to_ run _on a_ Saturday.

 

He takes a deep breath to clear his head, secures his earphones, and presses play on one of the playlists Tooru made before starting his jog around the race track. It was, admittedly, a calming thing that didn’t leave the same burn of stretched muscles as the yoga or dance had, and let him focus on the simple task of just moving forward.

 

Kozume and Keiji end up side by side, Kozume’s face impassive with a hint of interest underneath it as they focus on Yamamoto running ahead of them. The two share a glance, the side of Keiji’s lip quirks up, Kozume rolls their eyes and jogs ahead of Keiji so they could ask Yamamoto something.

 

Keiji didn’t mind, it was peaceful running alone on the track, passing Kuroo and Daishou and seeing them in different positions at every lap, until the third lap came and Daishou was practically curled around Kuroo.

 

They both stopped arguing a while ago, instead watching something on Kuroo’s phone which makes him snigger even harder with Daishou rolling his eyes at his own partner.

 

Keiji did not envy them at all. Of course he misses the comfort of being around Koutarou or the dorkiness of Tooru, Kou going to a university out of Japan and Tooru on his one year abroad; the four had been split to two.

 

And Keiji loves Satori, no doubt about it, but he notices how much Satori misses the others.

 

After a sigh and seeing Konoha running ahead of him, going faster to catch up to Washio and jump onto his back like a tiger, Keiji speeds up, music blaring in his ears and breath rattling as he runs, arms and legs pumping to push him forward.

 

He doesn’t identify anything but the moving scenery and the feeling of sweat cooling on his skin. What breaks his concentration is an odd sound, one that had higher and lower notes that kept rising and falling and the tell-tale noise of feet thumping against the ground.

 

Keiji pauses, slowing to a jog, then a walk, until he finally stops altogether and tugs out an earphone, only to turn around and get attacked with a flurry of white and black and grey and the smell of jasmine and strawberries and –

 

_Koutarou._

 

Keiji holds onto his boyfriend’s shoulders as Koutarou swings him around yelling a chorus of “ _Keiji!”_ with various interludes of  “ _I missed you!”_ and “ _I love you”_ in between.  

 

After the initial shock he finds himself giggling

 

“ _Sacchan!”_

 

In the distance he can hear Tooru’s distinct saccharine laugh, and sees him collide into Satori’s waiting arms, watching the two gripping the other, grinning happily and kissing sloppily.

 

He feels Koutarou’s lips press against his own cheeks, his temple, forehead and nose in chaste kisses, soft and fleeting like a butterfly and pulls away to press his hands against Koutarou’s face and look into wide eyes that look like liquid sunlight and melted gold. Their breaths intermingle, and in that moment Keiji feels his heart lift up as he presses their lips together, desperately.

 

The two end up on the ground, slammed by the forces of Satori and Tooru. Tooru manages to worm his way in between Koutarou and Keiji, arms wrapping securely around his partner as he whispers nonsense that warms Keiji’s heart.

 

With the idea of exercising thrown out the window, the four of them ditch Konoha and Washio, opting to change as quickly as possible and go to a small shop that sells “the best onigiri and gyoza,” according to Tooru.

 

On the way there, the four babble and talk animatedly; with the promise of a movie back at Satori’s house and the food they’ll buy, tare all euphoric.

 

Keiji bumps his shoulder to Tooru’s and pecks his cheek when he sees their dark eyes lighting up.

 

“I’m going to steal food from you all.”

 

Keiji is determined.

 

He exercised.

 

He _ran._

 

He’s sure as hell going to get extra portions, and his boyfriends are the perfect way to do so.

  
A chorus of complaints follow, and Keiji smiles softly.

**Author's Note:**

> !!  
>  i learned that this ship does not, in fact, have a tag of its own,,, so im making it now :D
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this !! ^o^ thank you so much for reading and please do check out the zine !! :D
> 
> yell at my on [tumblr](shouyouohno.tumblr.com)


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